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And there’s nothing like a camera error. The cop’s mouth vanishes for two frames.
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Monday, 23 March 2015
Son of Beauty and The Beast
Some character designs from the Fractured Fairy Tale “Son of Beauty and the Beast.” The tall woman in the fourth drawing below looks a little related to Mr. Magoo.
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And there’s nothing like a camera error. The cop’s mouth vanishes for two frames.
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And there’s nothing like a camera error. The cop’s mouth vanishes for two frames.
Sunday, 22 March 2015
Jack Benny's History of Comedy
Benny expert Laura Leff speculates many of these guest columns were ghosted by Benny’s writers. That’s likely the case in this column from 1936. It appeared in the Albany Evening News on May 11, 1936. The paper’s radio columnist had been getting correspondence from Harry Conn, Benny’s writer, and it seems quite probably Conn wrote this piece. Incidentally, this same column appeared in the Brooklyn Daily Eagle of September 16th that year.
Conn helped come up with some of the characterisations which made the Benny show so popular, though they were refined by other writers—with input from Jack Benny—to become what we remember today. Some critics say that epitomises the Benny broadcasts written by Conn—that he served up corn that other people eventually turned into a meal. While the assessment isn’t altogether fair—radio humour was something new and it was still evolving while Conn worked for Benny—one can’t help but read the following column and be struck by its hokum.
COMEDIAN HAS HIS SAY ON JOKESTERS
By THE LISTENER
LET GEORGE do it.
Or, in this case, let Jack do it. We sour-minded radio critics have had so much to say about the staleness of the jokes our comedians use and call "scripts"; we have sneered in type and "Hee-hawed" in print at their lack of novelty in material, that it is time one of them was permitted to have his say about fun and where you find it.
"I've taken my fun where I found it" said Kipling, and most of us seem to think that the radio comedians find their fun in the dust of an old, deserted garret.
So here goes ole Jack Benny, who needs much less defense than the rest of his guild, but who wants to have his say.
By JACK BENNY
AFTER 34 years of passing out what in some lucky instances get by as laughs, I have come to the definite conclusion that there is no such thing as a new joke and I'm not kidding. There are a few basic quips that have lasted through the centuries and with mighty few exceptions all the gags we hear today are variations on an original theme. Every once in a while a comedian gets off what he honestly believes to be a brand new one. But the wind is taken out of his sails immediately after the broadcast when some well-wisher comes up and says.
"Jack, that was a swell joke. But I liked it when I heard Tommy Harrington, the old New England wit, spring it 25 years ago."
Of course the basic wisecracks, thought up for the first time anywhere between 250 and 3,000 years ago. were very good. They had to be able to stand the rough treatment they have received since from alleged rib-ticklers like myself. After considerable ransacking. I found that about a dozen jokes form the basis for the 5,000,000,000 that crawl out of loudspeakers, jump at us from the screen and are hurled across the footlights at us nowdays. To illustrate this essay, I shall use six of these gems, giving full credit to their original sources.
One of the earliest funsters was a fellow named Samson. He is responsible for this pearl—I copied it right out of his script:
Samson: "A person I've known for 10 years cut me this morning."
John: "Well, that's strange. Who was it?"
Samson: "My barber."
We leave Samson and his barber, and investigate the Golden Age of Greece. It was during this period that a lad by the name of Socrates was flourishing on the Acropolis Circuit. He is reputed to have originated the one-line joke, as contrasted to the "he said" then "she said" variety of humor. The records show that Socrates used to slay them with this one:
"I met a man last night who was so mean that when his wife asked to see the world he gave her a map."
Not so very far away from Greece, what we how know as Ancient Rome was Beginning to grow up. It to Julius Caesar and one of his consuls (classic name for stooges) who will go down in history as the progenitors of this honey:
Consul: "It's no use getting sore at me. I take orders from no man."
J. Caesar: "That's what I noticed when you were working for me."
Everyone knows how Mr. Caesar ended his days. He was the first jokester taken for a ride by his rivals. They knifed him as he was going to the studios on the Ides of March for a political broadcast.
STRINGING along with those noble Romans for a while we find that the one and only Nero was instrumental in producing one Of the most heavily-leaned-on standbys. Everyone says that I stole my violin act from him. You know—people burned while he fiddled To get back to the point. Nero was sitting in a box at the Coliseum watching some of the local lads mangle each other. This brilliant piece of dialogue soon ensued:
Nero: 'You shouldn't hit your opponent when he's down."
First Gladiator: "What do you think I got him down for?"
For that bit of rugged individualism the gladiator got thumbs down from Nero, but the expression has lived on and in its various disguises is frequently heard on our best comedy programs.
Neither the Middle Ages, Renaissance nor Reformation Periods contributed much of lasting nature when it came to jokes. However, with the entry of America into world history the humorous vein comes to light again. Leif Erickson, who inaugurated the transatlantic boat service, thought up this one while fishing off the coast of Maine:
Sailor: "I'm going down for the second time."
Leif: "Well, have a look at my bait and see if it's still on the hook."
Another wit, apparently influenced by being in the vicinity of what later became these United States, was the blood-thirsty pirate. Sir Henry Morgan. He used to cruise off Florida, taking in Cuba. Bermuda and Nassau. Sir Henry endowed posterity with this piece of sure-fire radio material:
First Mate: "Where did you get those swell boots?"
Morgan: "At a store."
First Mate: "How much?"
Morgan: "I don't know. The owner had gone home for the night."
OF COURSE, if all these fellows were alive today it would be a little embarrassing for the comedians. There would probably be a Society of Comedy Writers and announcers would be required to state" at the end of broadcasts something like this: "The three jokes heard on this program are by "Socrates" or whoever the author was. As it is, about all these lads can do is collect imaginary royalties.
Once in a while somebody comes along with a gag that has all the ear-marks of being pretty original. For example, my friend Colonel Stoopnagle told me the other day that he had been trying to sell some funny stuff to the movies. He apparently had been having a pretty tough time of it.
"I submitted a script to Warner Brothers, but it was so bad, they had to re-write it before tearing it up," he said. There is a possibility that the Colonel lifted it from Pericles or Herodotus, but I never came across it as I was giving my scissors a work-out.
Saturday, 21 March 2015
He was Popeye?
But here’s a newspaper obit from 1960 that claims otherwise.
This could simply be a case of mangled facts. For example, I’ve found a number of newspaper clippings stating Red Coffee/Coffey was the voice of Huckleberry Hound. Well, he wasn’t. He played a duck who appeared on Yogi Bear cartoons on the Huckleberry Hound Show. Someone simplified the lineage. That may be the case in the story below. The man may have been in a vocal group or was a soloist who sang in Popeye or other Fleischer studio cartoons. Singers tended to lend their voices to characters made in cartoon studios in New York City in the early ‘30s.
And it’s pretty obvious a man never played Betty Boop.
Wallace Clark, Popeye's Film Voice, DiesTrying to track Clark involves making some assumptions. Weekly Variety of March 3, 1927 mentions a Wallace Clark forming a vaudeville act with Bernice Mason. The trade paper has a Wallace Clark Co. on bills starting in 1917; he was working the Orpheum circuit on the West Coast in 1920 and touring Australia and New Zealand in 1926. Clark definitely appeared on radio. He had his own 20-minute evening programme of “hits, old and new” on WLWL in New York (a station connected to the Catholic Church) in 1930. There was also a Wallace Clark who appeared in the 1932 Paramount feature “Madame Butterfly” and the 1933 Universal film “Private Jones” (neither of which included singing), but whether it’s the same man, I don’t know.
OLD LYME, Conn., Aug. 24 (AP)—Wallace Vincent Clark, 63, who was the original cartoon voice of Popeye the Sailor and Betty Boop, died early today at the Veterans Hospital, Rocky Hill.
Cause of death was not given.
CLARK,a native of Middletown, entered vaudeville after World War I naval service. He also was employed for a time by the National Broadcasting Co.
A member of the Debonair quartet, Clark did most of the Popeye and Betty Boop sound tracks himself, calling on other members of the quartet when additional voices were needed. He also was the voice on the old "Bouncing Ball" community sings in motion pictures.
* * *
CLARK retired from vaudeville in 1935 and came to Old Lyme in 1954. He operated a real estate business here.
Clark is survived by his widow, the former Francine Wouters, a son, John Wallace Clark II, and a sister, Mrs. Homer Grandbois of New Haven.
Burial will be tomorrow at the Sacred Heart cemetery, Meriden.
Friday, 20 March 2015
The Little Flame
A little flame jaunts from one side of the screen to the other after each failed attempt to capture him in Tex Avery’s “Red Hot Rangers.”
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Ed Love, Preston Blair, Ray Abrams and Walt Clinton are the animators. Irv Spence designed the model sheets. I wonder if Gene Hazelton did the layouts.
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Ed Love, Preston Blair, Ray Abrams and Walt Clinton are the animators. Irv Spence designed the model sheets. I wonder if Gene Hazelton did the layouts.
Thursday, 19 March 2015
The (Cartoon) Voice
One of the real crimes of the Golden Age of theatrical cartoons is the lack of screen credit for actors/actresses who supplied the voices for the characters. Mel Blanc’s name, of course, eventually appeared on a title card, but he needed a contract to do it (either in exchange for a raise or exclusivity, depending on which version you want to believe). But he was an exception to the rule. It was years before anyone else got their name on a Warners cartoon. The Walter Lantz and UPA studios started adding actors’ names to its opening credits in the ‘50s. People who voiced at other studios were pretty much out of luck.
Fans know Kay’s name because it was revealed in Leonard Maltin’s history-making historical overview of Golden Age studios, Of Mice And Magic (The book doesn’t reveal Kay’s fate or any biographical information; I presume Kay was a stage name). No doubt Maltin found it in the off-screen places where names of voice actors were bandied about—the trade or popular press. Perhaps the first time voice actors were revealed was during coverage of Helen Kane’s lawsuit in the early ‘30s against the Fleischer studio for appropriating her act and installing it in Betty Boop. Photos of Mae Questel, Margie Hines and others who played Betty appeared in newspapers, yet Questel never was credited on screen in a Paramount cartoon.
People who grew up watching all the old cartoons on TV no doubt love the voices and have their favourites. I’m not much on “Best of” and “Top Eleventy-Two” lists when it comes to animation, but I am interested in one that’ll be coming soon on Mark Evanier’s blog. If I had to pick any one person’s judgment about voice acting, it’d be Mark’s. As you may know, he’s been voice directing and casting for cartoons for years. He plans on a pre-1968 list and I’m anxious to see whom he chooses.
After that, I’d like to see who Mark picks. Sara Berner came out of a Major Bowes amateur show to become one of the top dialecticians on radio and she had a comparatively short career at Warners. Don Messick was Hanna-Barbera’s workhorse for years, playing title roles, sidekicks, incidental characters and wheezily laughing for a variety of animals. Hal Smith accepted work all over the place when television rolled around; you can hear him on such forgettable series as “Rod Rocket” and “The Funny Company” in addition to Hanna-Barbera cartoons. And a case could be made for one Walter Elias Disney, at least when it comes to influence. If his Mickey Mouse hadn’t have spoken in a falsetto, would other studios have been rife with falsetto cats, dogs, foxes, pigs, gila monsters, etc. in the early ‘30s?
I have my own personal favourites. Frank Graham, whose life ended in suicide, played both lead characters in Columbia’s “Fox and Crow” series in the ‘40s and was employed at MGM (“House of Tomorrow”) and Warners (“Horton Hatches the Egg”). Kent Rogers’ career was cut short at a young age by a training exercise accident during World War Two; he was one of the voices of Woody Woodpecker and you can hear him on Warners and MGM cartoons of the early ‘40s. I like Bea Benaderet; I still laugh at her screaming “The 5 O’Clock Whistle” in “Little Red Riding Rabbit.” And I love Hans Conried because he’s Hans Conried.
These names are just off the top of my head. I really don’t want you to debate them. Wait to see what Mark has to say. Read his blog’s other great animation and comic-related posts in the meantime.
Unfortunately, voice actors suffer the exact opposite of the problem they had in the ‘40s. They now get too much credit; that is, they’re credited for cartoons they never appeared in. Well-meaning but tin-eared fans come to their own conclusions about who is voicing something and splatter the information all over the internet without so much as a smidgeon of basic research. Thus people like Bill Thompson and Daws Butler were, if you want to believe make-up-the-facts websites, employed at studios when they were thousands of miles away from them. Others somehow voiced cartoons after they were dead. I’m sure Mark Evanier would love that kind of thing to be true, because then he could bring back Daws. Regardless, he’ll come up with a great and thoughtful list. And if he could tell me whatever happened to Arthur Kay, I’ll be happy about that, too.
Wednesday, 18 March 2015
Gilligan, Danny Clover and the Dinosaur
There were seven stranded castaways on “Gilligan’s Island” who appeared every week. But there was one semi-regular who never credited at the end of the show along with the guest stars. That was the voice of the news announcer that came through the portable radio. It was Larry Thor.
There can’t be terribly many people in show biz who were exports from Manitoba. Monty Hall was one. So were Neil Young and Gisele MacKenzie. Oh, and David Steinberg. Larry Thor was another.
Thor has the distinction, back in the Golden Days, of being the star of a dramatic radio show despite no training as a dramatic actor. In fact, he only spoke Icelandic until he was seven.
Thor turned his career to academics after his acting career ended. But he also was an accomplished writer of children’s songs. Here’s a story from the Winnipeg Free Press of August 7, 1965 that goes over his whole career, “Gilligan” excepted.
Larry Thor Rides High On Dinosaur
GALLOPING On My Dinosaur is the title of a new exciting album of children’s songs by former Winnipegger Larry Thor. The album is issued by the Harmony label of Columbia Records.
Writing the music and lyrics to the dozens of songs he signs on the record is a new medium for Mr. Thor who, for many years, has been a working actor in Hollywood on radio, movies and television. Mr. Thor can be seen on television as a regular on Mr. Novak in which he plays the role of Mr. Hendricks, one of the Jefferson High faculty.
Larry Thor has created one of those rare items—a group of children’s songs that adults will not only tolerate but enjoy. Mr. Thor puts the blame for the whole thing on his own children, having turned their problems, philosophies and play into original songs.
As Mr. Thor points out, one day he posed a question to his four-year-old son, Cameron:
“What are you going to be when you grow up?”
Came Cameron’s reply:
“You’ll see.”
“That’s really a multi-barrelled proposition, innocent, yet loaded,” explained Mr. Thor. “I gave me the idea for a song.”
The song appears on the record as Answer Every Question.
The title song, Galloping On My Dinosaur, again was the happiest result of childish imagination, a phenomenon that never ceases to amaze Larry Thor and a precious possession that most of us seem to submerge in the unimaginative reality of living. Mr. Thor, it seems, is one of the privileged few permitted to retain the happy imagination of childhood. With him it is as clear and untarnished as it was some 40-odd years ago in Lundar, Manitoba, where Arnleifer Lawrence Thorsteinson was born.
Mr. Thor’s father, Gudmundur Thorsteinson, was a school principal and schooling for him and his brothers and sisters was wherever father was principal. As a teenager in times when money seemed precariously scarce, Mr. Thor earned his first dollars farming, ranching and swinging a pick and shovel around Hudson Bay territory. Then he spent three years in the Lord Strathcona’s Horse and three more with the Princess Pats.
His first introduction to a microphone came at station CFAR in Flin Flon. Here, for the munificent sum of $17.50 weekly Mr. Thor served as the station’s entire writing staff as well as substitute announcer and featured vocalist.
Mr. Thor was blessed with a hearty, pleasing, full-voiced delivery. Quick to recognize the money-making power of speech he moved to CKGB in Timmins, Ontario, then to Toronto where he was turned down by the CBC when he applied for an announcing job. The CBC thought he sounded “too American” although he had never even been introduced to an American.
A short stint at CKCL in Toronto led to an opportunity to replace the late Christopher Ellis on a nightly sponsored newscast from Montreal’s CFCF which attracted the largest consistent listening audience of any program of its kind in the region. He became of one of Montreal’s favorite newscasters and interpreted Canadian and world happenings for an audience of many millions through the shortwave facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s international service. Mr. Thor’s voice and individual style became a trademark and listeners throughout Canada remember his comprehensive on-the-spot coverage of such front-page events as the Roosevelt-Churchill meetings in Quebec.
After six years in Montreal, the lure of Hollywood drew Mr. Thor to the U.S. Although he arrived in California without any connections he was taken on staff at KFAC, a 24-hour outlet devoted entirely to classical music. From there he moved quickly to KMPC where he quickly became one of the area’s most heard radio reporters.
“My main reason for going on my own was a desire to concentrate on dramatic work rather than stereotyped sales talk for pills and laxatives,” he said. He found that he had made a good move for almost immediately he won the lead role in a new series originating from CBS.
Mr. Thor recalled how one day he received a call from Harry Ackerman, CBS vice-president and director of network programs, for an audition. He arrived the next morning expecting to be one of a group of contenders for an announcing job. He was handed a script and read the lines ascribed to a tough, hard-hitting realistic Broadway cop. And that was that. When the program Broadway Is My Beat made its debut three weeks later, Larry Thor was in the starring role of Detective Danny Clover.
Mr. Ackerman had been looking for certain voice qualities to fill this choice of dramatic role. During one of Mr. Thor’s newscasts he decided he had found his man. As it proved, the choice was a good one for the show ran for five years and was considered one of the best of its kind. Its format led to a host of similar shows.
From radio it was inevitable that Mr. Thor would make the transition to television and movies. His list of credits reads like a listing of the shows from the TV Guide.
Announcing included such radio and television shows as the Carnation Hour, Clyde Beatty Show, Commander Performance, Columbia Workshop, Rockey Jordan [sic] and Steve Allen shows.
While it nets him no publicity and does little to forward his acting aspirations, Mr. Thor accepts considerable work at motion picture studios as the background voice in trailers of coming attractions. He narrated the trailers for Cyrano de Bergerac, The Steel Helmet, The Second Woman and many others. Mr. Thor attributes his apparently limitless energy and drive to inherent stubbornness. “Most Icelanders have trouble making a living off the farm,” he said. “This made me all the more determined to make my own way.”
Mr. Thor can be seen as a regular in the Mr. Novak TV series with James Fransiscus [sic]. When time permits he can be found in his Malibu Beach home swimming in the ocean or generally puttering around. His wife, actress Jean Howell, will probably be with him is she is not looking after Leifer, 2, Cameron, 4, or Kristina, 6. There are four other children by a previous marriage—Raymond, Kenneth, David and Lauren.
Thor and Jean Howell were married on October 1, 1955. It, perhaps, was a rocky affair. Here’s a short newspaper story from July 6, 1956.
TV Actress Granted California Divorce
Los Angeles (AP) — Television actress Jean Howell, 28, has won a divorce from Larry Thor, 39, actor-announcer, on the assertion that he was seldom sober during their four-month marriage.
She testified yesterday in Superior Court that Thor, among other things, went to sleep on the floor while dinner guests were at their Malibu home, went to sleep under a neighbor’s piano, and took a monkey to a bar and to work with him.
The two evidently reconciled, only to divorce in October 1975. Thor didn’t last much longer after that. CBS producer Bill Froug, who was involved in “Gilligan’s Island,” revealed in his autobiography that Thor’s alcoholism killed him. Thor died in a Los Angeles hospital on March 15, 1976. He was 69.
Thor has the distinction, back in the Golden Days, of being the star of a dramatic radio show despite no training as a dramatic actor. In fact, he only spoke Icelandic until he was seven.
Thor turned his career to academics after his acting career ended. But he also was an accomplished writer of children’s songs. Here’s a story from the Winnipeg Free Press of August 7, 1965 that goes over his whole career, “Gilligan” excepted.
Larry Thor Rides High On Dinosaur
GALLOPING On My Dinosaur is the title of a new exciting album of children’s songs by former Winnipegger Larry Thor. The album is issued by the Harmony label of Columbia Records.
Writing the music and lyrics to the dozens of songs he signs on the record is a new medium for Mr. Thor who, for many years, has been a working actor in Hollywood on radio, movies and television. Mr. Thor can be seen on television as a regular on Mr. Novak in which he plays the role of Mr. Hendricks, one of the Jefferson High faculty.
Larry Thor has created one of those rare items—a group of children’s songs that adults will not only tolerate but enjoy. Mr. Thor puts the blame for the whole thing on his own children, having turned their problems, philosophies and play into original songs.
As Mr. Thor points out, one day he posed a question to his four-year-old son, Cameron:
“What are you going to be when you grow up?”
Came Cameron’s reply:
“You’ll see.”
“That’s really a multi-barrelled proposition, innocent, yet loaded,” explained Mr. Thor. “I gave me the idea for a song.”
The song appears on the record as Answer Every Question.
The title song, Galloping On My Dinosaur, again was the happiest result of childish imagination, a phenomenon that never ceases to amaze Larry Thor and a precious possession that most of us seem to submerge in the unimaginative reality of living. Mr. Thor, it seems, is one of the privileged few permitted to retain the happy imagination of childhood. With him it is as clear and untarnished as it was some 40-odd years ago in Lundar, Manitoba, where Arnleifer Lawrence Thorsteinson was born.
Mr. Thor’s father, Gudmundur Thorsteinson, was a school principal and schooling for him and his brothers and sisters was wherever father was principal. As a teenager in times when money seemed precariously scarce, Mr. Thor earned his first dollars farming, ranching and swinging a pick and shovel around Hudson Bay territory. Then he spent three years in the Lord Strathcona’s Horse and three more with the Princess Pats.
His first introduction to a microphone came at station CFAR in Flin Flon. Here, for the munificent sum of $17.50 weekly Mr. Thor served as the station’s entire writing staff as well as substitute announcer and featured vocalist.
A short stint at CKCL in Toronto led to an opportunity to replace the late Christopher Ellis on a nightly sponsored newscast from Montreal’s CFCF which attracted the largest consistent listening audience of any program of its kind in the region. He became of one of Montreal’s favorite newscasters and interpreted Canadian and world happenings for an audience of many millions through the shortwave facilities of the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation’s international service. Mr. Thor’s voice and individual style became a trademark and listeners throughout Canada remember his comprehensive on-the-spot coverage of such front-page events as the Roosevelt-Churchill meetings in Quebec.
After six years in Montreal, the lure of Hollywood drew Mr. Thor to the U.S. Although he arrived in California without any connections he was taken on staff at KFAC, a 24-hour outlet devoted entirely to classical music. From there he moved quickly to KMPC where he quickly became one of the area’s most heard radio reporters.
“My main reason for going on my own was a desire to concentrate on dramatic work rather than stereotyped sales talk for pills and laxatives,” he said. He found that he had made a good move for almost immediately he won the lead role in a new series originating from CBS.
Mr. Thor recalled how one day he received a call from Harry Ackerman, CBS vice-president and director of network programs, for an audition. He arrived the next morning expecting to be one of a group of contenders for an announcing job. He was handed a script and read the lines ascribed to a tough, hard-hitting realistic Broadway cop. And that was that. When the program Broadway Is My Beat made its debut three weeks later, Larry Thor was in the starring role of Detective Danny Clover.
Mr. Ackerman had been looking for certain voice qualities to fill this choice of dramatic role. During one of Mr. Thor’s newscasts he decided he had found his man. As it proved, the choice was a good one for the show ran for five years and was considered one of the best of its kind. Its format led to a host of similar shows.
From radio it was inevitable that Mr. Thor would make the transition to television and movies. His list of credits reads like a listing of the shows from the TV Guide.
Announcing included such radio and television shows as the Carnation Hour, Clyde Beatty Show, Commander Performance, Columbia Workshop, Rockey Jordan [sic] and Steve Allen shows.
While it nets him no publicity and does little to forward his acting aspirations, Mr. Thor accepts considerable work at motion picture studios as the background voice in trailers of coming attractions. He narrated the trailers for Cyrano de Bergerac, The Steel Helmet, The Second Woman and many others. Mr. Thor attributes his apparently limitless energy and drive to inherent stubbornness. “Most Icelanders have trouble making a living off the farm,” he said. “This made me all the more determined to make my own way.”
Mr. Thor can be seen as a regular in the Mr. Novak TV series with James Fransiscus [sic]. When time permits he can be found in his Malibu Beach home swimming in the ocean or generally puttering around. His wife, actress Jean Howell, will probably be with him is she is not looking after Leifer, 2, Cameron, 4, or Kristina, 6. There are four other children by a previous marriage—Raymond, Kenneth, David and Lauren.
Thor and Jean Howell were married on October 1, 1955. It, perhaps, was a rocky affair. Here’s a short newspaper story from July 6, 1956.
TV Actress Granted California Divorce
Los Angeles (AP) — Television actress Jean Howell, 28, has won a divorce from Larry Thor, 39, actor-announcer, on the assertion that he was seldom sober during their four-month marriage.
She testified yesterday in Superior Court that Thor, among other things, went to sleep on the floor while dinner guests were at their Malibu home, went to sleep under a neighbor’s piano, and took a monkey to a bar and to work with him.
The two evidently reconciled, only to divorce in October 1975. Thor didn’t last much longer after that. CBS producer Bill Froug, who was involved in “Gilligan’s Island,” revealed in his autobiography that Thor’s alcoholism killed him. Thor died in a Los Angeles hospital on March 15, 1976. He was 69.
Tuesday, 17 March 2015
The S.S. Leon
Frank Tashlin and his unknown writer pull off an inside reference that turns out to close to the truth in “Porky’s Railroad” (1937). Porky and his train head over the bow of the S.S. Leon and come away with one of the ship’s life preservers.
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“Leon,” of course, refers to studio head Leon Schlesinger, who was a recreational boatsman. Daily Variety of May 28, 1937 reveals “The Leon Schlesingers pull out today for Coronado.” And the trade paper flashed on April 13, 1939 “Now it's Skipper Leon Schlesinger. Cartoon producer has bought Richard Arlen's yacht, Dijo, and rechristened it The Merrie Melody.”
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“Leon,” of course, refers to studio head Leon Schlesinger, who was a recreational boatsman. Daily Variety of May 28, 1937 reveals “The Leon Schlesingers pull out today for Coronado.” And the trade paper flashed on April 13, 1939 “Now it's Skipper Leon Schlesinger. Cartoon producer has bought Richard Arlen's yacht, Dijo, and rechristened it The Merrie Melody.”
Monday, 16 March 2015
Woody the Lady Killer
Woody Woodpecker’s reaction to what’s on the eyeball of a sleeping giant in “Woody the Giant Killer” (1947).
Eventually, the girl slaps him.
La Verne Harding and Ed Love are the only two to get animation credits.
Eventually, the girl slaps him.
La Verne Harding and Ed Love are the only two to get animation credits.
Sunday, 15 March 2015
A Real/Fake Jack Benny Show No. 2
The gossip magazine Radio Mirror came up with an interesting idea: take a bunch of scripts from a radio show during the regular season, them mash them together to make a composite script and the new publish it as a new “broadcast” while the show is on summer hiatus.
The magazine did it twice in 1937 and again in 1938. This is the second one from ‘37, published in the October edition. It picked the Jack Benny show and, no doubt to the delight of the sponsor, even included the Jell-O commercials.
Jack’s conversation with director Gensler is apparently lifted from the June 7, 1936 broadcast; no audio exists of it today. Gensler was played by Mel Blanc in his first-ever appearance on the Benny show. The drug store routine, for which audio also doesn’t exist, is from Feb. 16, 1936. The woman customer whose husband was low was played by Blanche Stewart, the other woman was Violet Klein. The car dealer routine is taken from the broadcast (in Detroit) of May 10, 1936, with Guy Robertson as the salesman. As you can see, Jack doesn’t have a Maxwell yet; much of his character that we know today hadn’t been developed.
By the way, the reference to Potash and Perlmutter isn’t about a vaudeville team. They were characters in books written by Montague Glass. They appeared on stage in Jewish dialect and later in films.
We’ll post the “broadcast” from 1938 next month. The photos in this post accompanied the article. I have no idea what Jack is doing in the second one.
JACK BENNY’S VACATION BROADCAST
RADIO MIRROR PRESENTS ANOTHER SIDE-SPLITTING READIO-BROADCAST. FILLED WITH ALL THE LAUGHS THAT HAVE MADE HIM NUMBER ONE COMEDIAN—DRAW UP YOUR CHAIR AND BEGIN TO CHUCKLE
EDITOR’S NOTE: Brought you through special permission of Jack Benny, to fill the hot evenings with amusement until he returns from his trip abroad — another readio-broadcast. You can’t hear it, but you can read it and get thirty minutes of the same fun you have when you tune in his Sunday night program. On these pages you will find more of the best laughs and playlets that have made this the year’s most popular program. It’s all based on material furnished by Jack himself.
IMAGINE it’s Sunday evening at your regular time for listening to Jack, Mary, Don Wilson, Phil Harris, Kenny Baker and the gang. There go the NBC chimes . . . “This is the National Broadcasting Company” . . . then we hear Don Wilson: DON: The Jell-O program! Starring Jack Benny, with Mary Livingstone and Phil Harris and his orchestra. The orchestra opens the program with “It Looks Like Rain in Cherry Blossom Lane.”
(We hear the brightest of the hit tunes, played as only Phil Harris and his gang can play it.)
DON: Tonight, ladies and gentlemen, Jack, Mary, and all the rest of us are still aboard the good ship Jelloa, taking a European vacation cruise. You wouldn’t know Jack — he’s so tanned and healthy looking he’s almost handsome — and here he is!
JACK: Jello-O again folks . . . Don, I wouldn’t care how you introduced me tonight.
You can kid me all you want to and I won’t mind. I feel too good, too full of pep and everything. My, what a tonic this ocean sun is!
DON: Well, you do look fine. Even the circles under your eyes are tan.
JACK: And then I had such a swell time at the masquerade ball last night.
DON: Funny, I didn’t see you. How did you dress?
JACK: Oh, I didn’t bother much. I just stuck forty candles on my head and went as a birthday cake. How were you dressed, Don?
DON: I sat on a plate all evening with a lot of sliced bananas around me.
JACK: Oh, you were that dish of Jell-O, were you? I might have known. Wasn’t it kind of uncomfortable sitting on a plate all evening?
DON: I didn’t mind it, until someone started to pour cream and sugar on me.
JACK: Here comes Mary. Funny, she must have been there last night but I didn’t recognize her either . . . Hello, Mary. How were you disguised at the party?
MARY: (It’s Mary all right. There’s no mistaking that voice.) Why, I had on a big red hat with a long yellow feather, tan buttoned shoes, a brown furpiece around my neck, a parasol in one hand and a bookcase in the other.
JACK: Mary, what were you supposed to be?
MARY: A rummage sale.
JACK: Oh!
DON: Say, Jack, did you see Phil Harris? He was asking if you’d brought your violin along on this trip.
JACK: (Trying not to sound pleased.) Oh he was, eh? Did you hear that, Mary? Phil wants to know if I brought my violin. Maybe he wants me to play with the orchestra . . . Oh, Phil, were you looking for me?
PHIL: Yes, I was. Say, Jack, have you got your violin with you?
JACK: Yes sir, I have it right down in my stateroom. Did you want me to play the next number with you?
PHIL: No, we’re looking for a fly swatter.
JACK: Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to hand you fellers the surprise of your lives. This summer — starting just next week — I’m going to take a few more lessons and brush up a little bit. Then you’ll see.
MARY: A few more? Go on, you never took any violin lessons.
JACK: I did, too!
MARY: Then your teacher didn’t.
JACK: (Good and mad now) Say, listen here! I could play “The Bee” when —
DON: Now, Jack, don’t let it get your goat. We were only fooling. Why, you know how we all love you — particularly after you’ve given us this swell trip and everything —
JACK: Yes, it has been fine, hasn’t it? Still, I’ll be glad to get back to Hollywood, go on the air again, and start my new picture. You know, I was so good in my love scenes in “Artists and Models” that in my next picture they’re going to give me two leading ladies.
DON: Is that so?
JACK: (And you can practically see him hooking his thumbs into the arm holes of his vest.) Yep. Of course, I prefer comedy, but if I’m the romantic type — well, what can I do?
MARY: Play comedy.
DON: Say, Jack, here’s Kenny Baker. He wants to ask you something.
JACK: Why hello, Kenny. What do you want?
KENNY: Well, you know I’ve signed a contract to make a picture as soon as we get back, too.
JACK: Oh, have you, Kenny? I’m glad to hear it. What company?
KENNY: Monotonous Films.
JACK: Well, that’s a nice company. Makes a lot of pictures too. How did you get the job?
KENNY: Incognito. I told them I was Robert Taylor.
JACK: Oh boy, wait until they find out!
KENNY: But I’m a little worried. Jack. You know, you’ve had so much experience, I wish you’d give me a few pointers. I’m a little weak on dramatic lines, and comedy, and character parts.
JACK: Well, what can you do?
KENNY: I could make love, with a little encouragement.
MARY: (Hopefully) Encourage him, Jack.
JACK: Don’t worry, Kenny, all you need is a little coaching. For instance, take a scene like this. Suppose you come home to your wife after eight years in the Navy and you find her in the arms of another. Now you walk in and say, “So this is what’s been going on, eh? You’ve let eight years in the Navy separate us. When I get you alone, I’m going to kill you, kill you, kill you!”
KENNY: Do I kill her?
JACK: No, she’s never alone. Now you try it, Kenny.
KENNY: (He rattles the speech off without any expression at all) So this is what’s been going on, eh . . . Gee, you’ve let eight years in the Navy separate us. When I get you alone I’m going to kill you three times, so help me.
JACK: Hm!
KENNY: What will I do now?
MARY: Tear up your contract.
JACK: No, Kenny, try again and put some fire into it.
KENNY: Okay, Jack ... So this is what’s been going on, eh? After eight years I find you in the arms of another.
JACK: No, Kenny, Gable wouldn’t do it that way.
MARY: Gable wouldn’t stay away eight years.
KENNY: Gee, this is too hard. Jack. Shall I try something else?
JACK: Yes — sing, Kenny.
(Kenny sings “You’re My Desire”) and makes a swell job of it, too. Then, as he finishes:
SALESMAN: Mr. Benny, Mr. Benny! . . . Hello, Mr. Benny, remember me?
JACK: No.
SALESMAN: That’s what I thought, now I can speak freely. My name is Chisleworth, Chester C. Chisleworth, and I represent the Major Motors Company. Now, how about buying a car now, while you’re on your vacation, and then it will be all ready for you to use when you get back to Hollywood. JACK: Well . . .
SALESMAN: Let me show you our catalogue. Now right here is the best buy in America today, the Synthetic Seven. Yes, sir! What a car! And talk about economy — why, you can get fifteen miles to every fifteen gallons of gasoline.
JACK: Well, I don’t think I’m interested —
SALESMAN: And talk about speed — why, this little car is so fast, it will take your breath away.
JACK: Take my breath away! What do you do, drive it or gargle with it?
SALESMAN: With this car you don’t need gargles. Our windshields are sun-proof, windproof, shatterproof, and bullet-proof.
JACK: Sounds pretty good, eh, Mary?
MARY: Yes, and he’s got nice eyes, too.
SALESMAN: Now, just look at this picture of the car, Mr. Benny. Notice its beautiful lines, those lovely curves. Just look at that streamlined chassis!
Jack (Doubtfully): I don’t know — I like Loretta Young better. What’s the price of that Synthetic Seven?
SALESMAN: Three hundred and eighty dollars — but if you want to go just a little higher, we’ve got the Synthetic Nine.
JACK: How much is that?
SALESMAN: Twelve thousand.
JACK: Hm, not bad.
SALESMAN: Of course the nine is built especially for touring. If you buy it, you’ll get a trailer.
MARY: What’s a trailer, Jack?
JACK: A man from the finance company — I ought to know.
SALESMAN: Now, as a special inducement, the moment you buy this car we give you twenty gallons of gas free.
JACK: What about the oil?
MARY: He’s giving you that now.
JACK: Well, you see, Mr. . . .
MESSENGER BOY: Radiogram for Mr. Benny.
JACK: Ah! Just in the nick of time! (We hear the rattle of paper, then Jack reads): “Arriving by plane this afternoon. Must discuss story of your next picture. Signed, Gensler, Paramount Studios.” Well, can you imagine that! Flying all the way over here to discuss the picture with me! Gee, it certainly must be a big part.
MARY: Either that or they’re worried.
JACK: I’ll have to go and rest — he’ll be here any minute now. Play, Don — I mean John — I mean Phil!
(Phil Harris’ orchestra begins to play “Where or When” from the musical comedy, “Babes in Arms,” but soon, over the music, we hear the drone of an airplane motor — then a babble of voices — and when next we hear Jack, he and the DIRECTOR of his new picture are deep in discussion. Listen:)
JACK: When do I come in?
DIRECTOR: Very soon now. Here’s where it gets dramatic.
JACK: Oh! (And he clears his throat before he goes on, reading:) “As we fade in, we find the lover seated on the davenport with a beautiful blonde. He takes her in his arms and says, ‘Darling, I can’t live without you.’ She says, ‘I can’t live without you.’ Then he says, ‘I can’t eat without you.’ And she says, ‘I can’t eat without ketchup.’” ... That’s quite romantic, isn’t it?
DIRECTOR: Yes. In fact, we worked two weeks on that one line. We didn’t know whether to use ketchup or chili sauce.
JACK: And you worked two weeks on it.
MARY: One more week and she could have had mustard.
DIRECTOR: “The lovers move closer together, and as he puts his arm around her you hear the beautiful strains of a violin playing ‘Love in Bloom.’”
JACK: Here I come, Mary.
DIRECTOR: “Then a shot is heard!”
MARY: There you go, Jack.
DIRECTOR: “Then as the music dies out, you see the lovers sitting on the floor, looking out of the window at the moonlight.”
JACK: Oh, they’re on the floor now, huh? What happened to the davenport?
DIRECTOR: We loaned it to Metro.
JACK: Oh, I see . . . You know, Mary, the studios exchange courtesies like that. We loan Metro a davenport and they loan us Garbo.
MARY: Oh!
JACK: I’m not in the picture yet. Do I come in soon?
DIRECTOR: Right away. “As they are looking out of the window, the butler enters the room and says, ‘Madame, you’re wanted on the phone.’” That’s you, Jack.
JACK: Who, the butler, the madame, or the phone?
DIRECTOR: The butler, of course.
JACK: (Disgusted) That’s fine. I’m supposed to be the star and I play the butler.
(Mary starts to laugh.)
JACK: What are you laughing at, Mary?
MARY: I’m not even in the picture and I got a bigger part than you have.
JACK: Now wait a minute, we’re not through yet. What happens after that?
DIRECTOR: Well, Jack, then we go into a lot of specialties, dancing, music and comedy — so you’ll be out of the next six reels.
JACK: I’ll be out for six reels! Well, can’t I do anything during that time?
DIRECTOR: Sure, you can do anything you want to — you can play golf, or you can go down to the beach and take a swim.
JACK: I can’t swim.
MARY: You ought to be able to learn in six reels.
JACK: Well, there’s something to that . . . Now, what do I do next?
DIRECTOR: Ah, you’ll like this, Jack. In the last reel you have another big scene —
JACK: I know — the phone rings again —
MARY: And you swim in and answer it.
DIRECTOR: No, this time there is a knock at the door . . . The husband comes in unexpectedly and you hide in the closet.
JACK: Why do I have to hide in the closet? I haven’t done anything.
MARY: (There’s no stopping this girl) I’ll say you haven’t.
DIRECTOR: You see. Jack, you’re really not the butler at all. You’re a detective dressed as a butler.
JACK: Oh, now I get it. I’m a detective and I hide in the closet to trap the lover.
DIRECTOR: That’s it exactly. Now when the husband comes into the room and sees his wife in the arms of another, he kills himself, and the lovers live happily ever after. You get the idea?
JACK: Yes, but when do I come out of the closet?
MARY: After the preview.
JACK: Now see here, that part isn’t big enough for me. I thought I was going to be the star of this picture. I won’t play it!
DIRECTOR: Oh, Mr. Benny . . .
JACK: No, sir, there’s no use arguing with me!
DIRECTOR: Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to get Fred Allen —
JACK: Now wait a minute — don’t fly off the handle. Maybe we can talk this thing over. Just why isn’t my part bigger?
DIRECTOR: You see, Mr. Benny, the studio is afraid you can’t act the part it had in mind for you at first. Maybe you’re not exactly the type, you know.
JACK: What part was it?
DIRECTOR: A storekeeper — a druggist, in fact — very wise and gentle and philosophical. But then we got to thinking it wasn’t exactly the sort of part you’d like—
JACK (He’s very emphatic now): It’s exactly the sort of part I like, and I do it very well. In fact, I’m playing a druggist in our dramatic offering for this broadcast. Now you just listen, and you’ll see. The idea of saying I’m not the type!
(There’s a fanfare of music — then Don Wilson’s voice).
DON: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight Jack Benny makes history by appearing in an entirely new role — that of Jack Bennypill, owner and proprietor of Bennypill’s Pharmacy in Medicine Hat. Lights! Curtain!
(Fading in, we hear the tinkle of a cash register, the clink of glasses, the hiss of a soda-fountain. Then Jack speaks):
JACK: Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: I’d like to have this prescription filled right away, my husband IS awfully sick. Quick, please— he’s very low.
JACK: How low is he?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Right now he’s playing pinochle with a worm.
JACK: Oh! Let me see that prescription . . . two grains of salicylate of sodium . . . one grain of phenol-barbitol, and a corned beef sandwich.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Mustard on the sandwich, please.
JACK: Yes, ma’am. How about Russian dressing on the pheno-barbitol?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Yes, and hurry up.
(We hear the door open and slam).
JACK: Pardon me a moment, ma’am.
What can I do for you, sir?
KENNY: I can’t sleep nights; what do you suggest?
JACK: How about a nice alarm clock?
KENNY: That sounds good. How much are they?
JACK: Well, these clocks over here are one dollar.
KENNY: One dollar! Why, they’re marked fifty-nine cents.
JACK: Well, that’s all a dollar is worth today. But they’re very good clocks. I make them, myself. See the name. Big Benny?
KENNY: Well, never mind. I’ll take some chewing gum.
JACK: Chewing gum, okay. Shall I send it?
KENNY: No, just stick it on my shoe.
JACK: Oh, shooing gum.
Woman Customer: Hey, how about my prescription?
JACK: Oh yes, ma’am. Let’s see that again . . . two grains of Silly Symphony . . . one grain of Ricardo Cortez . . . and one grin from the audience. (The door opens again.) Oh, pardon me a moment. What can I do for you, Miss? . . . Oh, hello, Mary.
MARY: Let me see . . . Give me a chocolate malted frappayed fudge ice cream soda plain, with maraschino cherries and nuts.
JACK: How about some whipped cream?
MARY: No, I’m on a diet.
JACK: All right, I’ll make it right up for you.
MARY: While I’m waiting, give me a New England boiled dinner.
JACK: Wait until I fix the drink for you.
(We hear him fixing it.)
MARY: Wait a minute, don’t put any ice cream in it.
JACK: No ice cream, all right.
MARY: Wait — no malt, please.
JACK: I see — no malt either.
MARY: You might as well cut out the fudge, too.
JACK: Okay.
(We hear the sound of charged water.)
MARY: Wait a minute . . . just plain water.
JACK: Hey, all you’ve got here is a glass of plain water and a straw.
MARY: That’s what I want.
JACK: This is a new drink, folks. A Scotch surprise. Here you are, Mary. That will be a penny for the straw.
MARY: I don’t need the straw.
JACK: One more customer like you and this place will be a garage.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Clerk, I want this prescription filled immediately. My husband is very low.
JACK: Oh yes, let’s see that again . . . Hm, two grams of laudanum . . . one ounce of permanganate of potash . . . two ounces of perlmutter . . . (The door opens again) Pardon me, lady, I’ll be right with you.
ANOTHER WOMAN: (Groaning) Oh oh oh oh oh!
JACK: What’s wrong? What can I do for you? (She groans some more) Sit down here — I’ll get you some water. (She groans louder) What’s the matter?
THE OTHER WOMAN: Give me a three-cent stamp!
JACK: Oh!
WOMAN CUSTOMER: How about my prescription?
JACK: Are you still here? Mary, help me out — take care of that woman, will you?
MARY: Let me see that prescription, Toots . . . two grains of pyramidon . . . one gram of Schenectady . . . one ticket to Syracuse. . . (The door opens again)
JACK: What can I do for you?
PHIL: Say, have you got any aspirin?
JACK: Yes.
PHIL: Well, why don’t you take some, you look terrible.
(The door slams behind him)
JACK: Hm, now I know what’s the matter with this place. I’m sick.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Will you please hurry up with that prescription? My husband is very low.
JACK: Yes, ma’am, just a minute.
(That door opens again.)
DON: Good evening, good evening.
JACK: How do you do, sir. Anything for you?
DON: I’d like to get some Jell-O. You serve it here, don’t you?
JACK: Yes, you little mind reader.
DON: Is it genuine Jell-O with the big red letters on the box?
JACK: It is, if we expect to be back on the air next Sunday.
DON: Then I’ll have some.
JACK: There you are sir . . . Well, guess it’s time I was locking up. Come on, Mary.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: How about my prescription. I’ve been waiting all day long and my husband is very low.
JACK: Lock her up, Mary, we’ll take care of her tomorrow . . . Play, Phil!
(Phil Harris strikes up with “Strangers In the Dark.”)
JACK: That was the last number of this special vacation broadcast, coming to you through the courtesy of Radio Mirror. Well, Mr. Gensler, now do you still say I can’t act?
DIRECTOR: It was wonderful. Jack! Stupendous!
JACK: So I don’t have to play the butler’s part?
DIRECTOR: I should say not! You don’t have to play any part. You’re fired!
JACK: Oh! Good night, folks.
Jack Benny and his gang return to the air over the NBC-RED Network on Sunday, October 3, at 7:00 P. M. Eastern Standard Time, with a repeat West Coast broadcast at 8:30 P. M. Pacific Standard Time.
The magazine did it twice in 1937 and again in 1938. This is the second one from ‘37, published in the October edition. It picked the Jack Benny show and, no doubt to the delight of the sponsor, even included the Jell-O commercials.
Jack’s conversation with director Gensler is apparently lifted from the June 7, 1936 broadcast; no audio exists of it today. Gensler was played by Mel Blanc in his first-ever appearance on the Benny show. The drug store routine, for which audio also doesn’t exist, is from Feb. 16, 1936. The woman customer whose husband was low was played by Blanche Stewart, the other woman was Violet Klein. The car dealer routine is taken from the broadcast (in Detroit) of May 10, 1936, with Guy Robertson as the salesman. As you can see, Jack doesn’t have a Maxwell yet; much of his character that we know today hadn’t been developed.
By the way, the reference to Potash and Perlmutter isn’t about a vaudeville team. They were characters in books written by Montague Glass. They appeared on stage in Jewish dialect and later in films.
We’ll post the “broadcast” from 1938 next month. The photos in this post accompanied the article. I have no idea what Jack is doing in the second one.
JACK BENNY’S VACATION BROADCAST
RADIO MIRROR PRESENTS ANOTHER SIDE-SPLITTING READIO-BROADCAST. FILLED WITH ALL THE LAUGHS THAT HAVE MADE HIM NUMBER ONE COMEDIAN—DRAW UP YOUR CHAIR AND BEGIN TO CHUCKLE
EDITOR’S NOTE: Brought you through special permission of Jack Benny, to fill the hot evenings with amusement until he returns from his trip abroad — another readio-broadcast. You can’t hear it, but you can read it and get thirty minutes of the same fun you have when you tune in his Sunday night program. On these pages you will find more of the best laughs and playlets that have made this the year’s most popular program. It’s all based on material furnished by Jack himself.
IMAGINE it’s Sunday evening at your regular time for listening to Jack, Mary, Don Wilson, Phil Harris, Kenny Baker and the gang. There go the NBC chimes . . . “This is the National Broadcasting Company” . . . then we hear Don Wilson: DON: The Jell-O program! Starring Jack Benny, with Mary Livingstone and Phil Harris and his orchestra. The orchestra opens the program with “It Looks Like Rain in Cherry Blossom Lane.”
(We hear the brightest of the hit tunes, played as only Phil Harris and his gang can play it.)
JACK: Jello-O again folks . . . Don, I wouldn’t care how you introduced me tonight.
You can kid me all you want to and I won’t mind. I feel too good, too full of pep and everything. My, what a tonic this ocean sun is!
DON: Well, you do look fine. Even the circles under your eyes are tan.
JACK: And then I had such a swell time at the masquerade ball last night.
DON: Funny, I didn’t see you. How did you dress?
JACK: Oh, I didn’t bother much. I just stuck forty candles on my head and went as a birthday cake. How were you dressed, Don?
DON: I sat on a plate all evening with a lot of sliced bananas around me.
JACK: Oh, you were that dish of Jell-O, were you? I might have known. Wasn’t it kind of uncomfortable sitting on a plate all evening?
DON: I didn’t mind it, until someone started to pour cream and sugar on me.
JACK: Here comes Mary. Funny, she must have been there last night but I didn’t recognize her either . . . Hello, Mary. How were you disguised at the party?
MARY: (It’s Mary all right. There’s no mistaking that voice.) Why, I had on a big red hat with a long yellow feather, tan buttoned shoes, a brown furpiece around my neck, a parasol in one hand and a bookcase in the other.
JACK: Mary, what were you supposed to be?
MARY: A rummage sale.
JACK: Oh!
DON: Say, Jack, did you see Phil Harris? He was asking if you’d brought your violin along on this trip.
JACK: (Trying not to sound pleased.) Oh he was, eh? Did you hear that, Mary? Phil wants to know if I brought my violin. Maybe he wants me to play with the orchestra . . . Oh, Phil, were you looking for me?
PHIL: Yes, I was. Say, Jack, have you got your violin with you?
JACK: Yes sir, I have it right down in my stateroom. Did you want me to play the next number with you?
PHIL: No, we’re looking for a fly swatter.
JACK: Oh yeah? Well, I’m going to hand you fellers the surprise of your lives. This summer — starting just next week — I’m going to take a few more lessons and brush up a little bit. Then you’ll see.
MARY: A few more? Go on, you never took any violin lessons.
JACK: I did, too!
MARY: Then your teacher didn’t.
JACK: (Good and mad now) Say, listen here! I could play “The Bee” when —
DON: Now, Jack, don’t let it get your goat. We were only fooling. Why, you know how we all love you — particularly after you’ve given us this swell trip and everything —
JACK: Yes, it has been fine, hasn’t it? Still, I’ll be glad to get back to Hollywood, go on the air again, and start my new picture. You know, I was so good in my love scenes in “Artists and Models” that in my next picture they’re going to give me two leading ladies.
DON: Is that so?
JACK: (And you can practically see him hooking his thumbs into the arm holes of his vest.) Yep. Of course, I prefer comedy, but if I’m the romantic type — well, what can I do?
MARY: Play comedy.
DON: Say, Jack, here’s Kenny Baker. He wants to ask you something.
JACK: Why hello, Kenny. What do you want?
KENNY: Well, you know I’ve signed a contract to make a picture as soon as we get back, too.
JACK: Oh, have you, Kenny? I’m glad to hear it. What company?
KENNY: Monotonous Films.
JACK: Well, that’s a nice company. Makes a lot of pictures too. How did you get the job?
KENNY: Incognito. I told them I was Robert Taylor.
JACK: Oh boy, wait until they find out!
KENNY: But I’m a little worried. Jack. You know, you’ve had so much experience, I wish you’d give me a few pointers. I’m a little weak on dramatic lines, and comedy, and character parts.
JACK: Well, what can you do?
KENNY: I could make love, with a little encouragement.
MARY: (Hopefully) Encourage him, Jack.
JACK: Don’t worry, Kenny, all you need is a little coaching. For instance, take a scene like this. Suppose you come home to your wife after eight years in the Navy and you find her in the arms of another. Now you walk in and say, “So this is what’s been going on, eh? You’ve let eight years in the Navy separate us. When I get you alone, I’m going to kill you, kill you, kill you!”
KENNY: Do I kill her?
JACK: No, she’s never alone. Now you try it, Kenny.
KENNY: (He rattles the speech off without any expression at all) So this is what’s been going on, eh . . . Gee, you’ve let eight years in the Navy separate us. When I get you alone I’m going to kill you three times, so help me.
JACK: Hm!
KENNY: What will I do now?
MARY: Tear up your contract.
JACK: No, Kenny, try again and put some fire into it.
KENNY: Okay, Jack ... So this is what’s been going on, eh? After eight years I find you in the arms of another.
JACK: No, Kenny, Gable wouldn’t do it that way.
MARY: Gable wouldn’t stay away eight years.
KENNY: Gee, this is too hard. Jack. Shall I try something else?
JACK: Yes — sing, Kenny.
(Kenny sings “You’re My Desire”) and makes a swell job of it, too. Then, as he finishes:
SALESMAN: Mr. Benny, Mr. Benny! . . . Hello, Mr. Benny, remember me?
JACK: No.
SALESMAN: That’s what I thought, now I can speak freely. My name is Chisleworth, Chester C. Chisleworth, and I represent the Major Motors Company. Now, how about buying a car now, while you’re on your vacation, and then it will be all ready for you to use when you get back to Hollywood. JACK: Well . . .
SALESMAN: Let me show you our catalogue. Now right here is the best buy in America today, the Synthetic Seven. Yes, sir! What a car! And talk about economy — why, you can get fifteen miles to every fifteen gallons of gasoline.
JACK: Well, I don’t think I’m interested —
SALESMAN: And talk about speed — why, this little car is so fast, it will take your breath away.
JACK: Take my breath away! What do you do, drive it or gargle with it?
SALESMAN: With this car you don’t need gargles. Our windshields are sun-proof, windproof, shatterproof, and bullet-proof.
JACK: Sounds pretty good, eh, Mary?
MARY: Yes, and he’s got nice eyes, too.
SALESMAN: Now, just look at this picture of the car, Mr. Benny. Notice its beautiful lines, those lovely curves. Just look at that streamlined chassis!
Jack (Doubtfully): I don’t know — I like Loretta Young better. What’s the price of that Synthetic Seven?
SALESMAN: Three hundred and eighty dollars — but if you want to go just a little higher, we’ve got the Synthetic Nine.
JACK: How much is that?
SALESMAN: Twelve thousand.
JACK: Hm, not bad.
SALESMAN: Of course the nine is built especially for touring. If you buy it, you’ll get a trailer.
MARY: What’s a trailer, Jack?
JACK: A man from the finance company — I ought to know.
SALESMAN: Now, as a special inducement, the moment you buy this car we give you twenty gallons of gas free.
JACK: What about the oil?
MARY: He’s giving you that now.
JACK: Well, you see, Mr. . . .
MESSENGER BOY: Radiogram for Mr. Benny.
JACK: Ah! Just in the nick of time! (We hear the rattle of paper, then Jack reads): “Arriving by plane this afternoon. Must discuss story of your next picture. Signed, Gensler, Paramount Studios.” Well, can you imagine that! Flying all the way over here to discuss the picture with me! Gee, it certainly must be a big part.
MARY: Either that or they’re worried.
JACK: I’ll have to go and rest — he’ll be here any minute now. Play, Don — I mean John — I mean Phil!
DIRECTOR: Very soon now. Here’s where it gets dramatic.
JACK: Oh! (And he clears his throat before he goes on, reading:) “As we fade in, we find the lover seated on the davenport with a beautiful blonde. He takes her in his arms and says, ‘Darling, I can’t live without you.’ She says, ‘I can’t live without you.’ Then he says, ‘I can’t eat without you.’ And she says, ‘I can’t eat without ketchup.’” ... That’s quite romantic, isn’t it?
DIRECTOR: Yes. In fact, we worked two weeks on that one line. We didn’t know whether to use ketchup or chili sauce.
JACK: And you worked two weeks on it.
MARY: One more week and she could have had mustard.
DIRECTOR: “The lovers move closer together, and as he puts his arm around her you hear the beautiful strains of a violin playing ‘Love in Bloom.’”
JACK: Here I come, Mary.
DIRECTOR: “Then a shot is heard!”
MARY: There you go, Jack.
DIRECTOR: “Then as the music dies out, you see the lovers sitting on the floor, looking out of the window at the moonlight.”
JACK: Oh, they’re on the floor now, huh? What happened to the davenport?
DIRECTOR: We loaned it to Metro.
JACK: Oh, I see . . . You know, Mary, the studios exchange courtesies like that. We loan Metro a davenport and they loan us Garbo.
MARY: Oh!
JACK: I’m not in the picture yet. Do I come in soon?
DIRECTOR: Right away. “As they are looking out of the window, the butler enters the room and says, ‘Madame, you’re wanted on the phone.’” That’s you, Jack.
JACK: Who, the butler, the madame, or the phone?
DIRECTOR: The butler, of course.
JACK: (Disgusted) That’s fine. I’m supposed to be the star and I play the butler.
(Mary starts to laugh.)
JACK: What are you laughing at, Mary?
MARY: I’m not even in the picture and I got a bigger part than you have.
JACK: Now wait a minute, we’re not through yet. What happens after that?
DIRECTOR: Well, Jack, then we go into a lot of specialties, dancing, music and comedy — so you’ll be out of the next six reels.
JACK: I’ll be out for six reels! Well, can’t I do anything during that time?
DIRECTOR: Sure, you can do anything you want to — you can play golf, or you can go down to the beach and take a swim.
JACK: I can’t swim.
MARY: You ought to be able to learn in six reels.
JACK: Well, there’s something to that . . . Now, what do I do next?
DIRECTOR: Ah, you’ll like this, Jack. In the last reel you have another big scene —
JACK: I know — the phone rings again —
MARY: And you swim in and answer it.
DIRECTOR: No, this time there is a knock at the door . . . The husband comes in unexpectedly and you hide in the closet.
JACK: Why do I have to hide in the closet? I haven’t done anything.
MARY: (There’s no stopping this girl) I’ll say you haven’t.
DIRECTOR: You see. Jack, you’re really not the butler at all. You’re a detective dressed as a butler.
JACK: Oh, now I get it. I’m a detective and I hide in the closet to trap the lover.
DIRECTOR: That’s it exactly. Now when the husband comes into the room and sees his wife in the arms of another, he kills himself, and the lovers live happily ever after. You get the idea?
JACK: Yes, but when do I come out of the closet?
MARY: After the preview.
JACK: Now see here, that part isn’t big enough for me. I thought I was going to be the star of this picture. I won’t play it!
DIRECTOR: Oh, Mr. Benny . . .
JACK: No, sir, there’s no use arguing with me!
DIRECTOR: Well, then, I guess we’ll just have to get Fred Allen —
JACK: Now wait a minute — don’t fly off the handle. Maybe we can talk this thing over. Just why isn’t my part bigger?
DIRECTOR: You see, Mr. Benny, the studio is afraid you can’t act the part it had in mind for you at first. Maybe you’re not exactly the type, you know.
JACK: What part was it?
DIRECTOR: A storekeeper — a druggist, in fact — very wise and gentle and philosophical. But then we got to thinking it wasn’t exactly the sort of part you’d like—
JACK (He’s very emphatic now): It’s exactly the sort of part I like, and I do it very well. In fact, I’m playing a druggist in our dramatic offering for this broadcast. Now you just listen, and you’ll see. The idea of saying I’m not the type!
(There’s a fanfare of music — then Don Wilson’s voice).
DON: Ladies and gentlemen, tonight Jack Benny makes history by appearing in an entirely new role — that of Jack Bennypill, owner and proprietor of Bennypill’s Pharmacy in Medicine Hat. Lights! Curtain!
(Fading in, we hear the tinkle of a cash register, the clink of glasses, the hiss of a soda-fountain. Then Jack speaks):
JACK: Yes, ma’am, what can I do for you?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: I’d like to have this prescription filled right away, my husband IS awfully sick. Quick, please— he’s very low.
JACK: How low is he?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Right now he’s playing pinochle with a worm.
JACK: Oh! Let me see that prescription . . . two grains of salicylate of sodium . . . one grain of phenol-barbitol, and a corned beef sandwich.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Mustard on the sandwich, please.
JACK: Yes, ma’am. How about Russian dressing on the pheno-barbitol?
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Yes, and hurry up.
(We hear the door open and slam).
JACK: Pardon me a moment, ma’am.
What can I do for you, sir?
KENNY: I can’t sleep nights; what do you suggest?
JACK: How about a nice alarm clock?
KENNY: That sounds good. How much are they?
JACK: Well, these clocks over here are one dollar.
KENNY: One dollar! Why, they’re marked fifty-nine cents.
JACK: Well, that’s all a dollar is worth today. But they’re very good clocks. I make them, myself. See the name. Big Benny?
KENNY: Well, never mind. I’ll take some chewing gum.
JACK: Chewing gum, okay. Shall I send it?
KENNY: No, just stick it on my shoe.
JACK: Oh, shooing gum.
Woman Customer: Hey, how about my prescription?
JACK: Oh yes, ma’am. Let’s see that again . . . two grains of Silly Symphony . . . one grain of Ricardo Cortez . . . and one grin from the audience. (The door opens again.) Oh, pardon me a moment. What can I do for you, Miss? . . . Oh, hello, Mary.
MARY: Let me see . . . Give me a chocolate malted frappayed fudge ice cream soda plain, with maraschino cherries and nuts.
JACK: How about some whipped cream?
MARY: No, I’m on a diet.
JACK: All right, I’ll make it right up for you.
MARY: While I’m waiting, give me a New England boiled dinner.
JACK: Wait until I fix the drink for you.
(We hear him fixing it.)
MARY: Wait a minute, don’t put any ice cream in it.
JACK: No ice cream, all right.
MARY: Wait — no malt, please.
JACK: I see — no malt either.
MARY: You might as well cut out the fudge, too.
JACK: Okay.
(We hear the sound of charged water.)
MARY: Wait a minute . . . just plain water.
JACK: Hey, all you’ve got here is a glass of plain water and a straw.
MARY: That’s what I want.
JACK: This is a new drink, folks. A Scotch surprise. Here you are, Mary. That will be a penny for the straw.
MARY: I don’t need the straw.
JACK: One more customer like you and this place will be a garage.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Clerk, I want this prescription filled immediately. My husband is very low.
JACK: Oh yes, let’s see that again . . . Hm, two grams of laudanum . . . one ounce of permanganate of potash . . . two ounces of perlmutter . . . (The door opens again) Pardon me, lady, I’ll be right with you.
ANOTHER WOMAN: (Groaning) Oh oh oh oh oh!
JACK: What’s wrong? What can I do for you? (She groans some more) Sit down here — I’ll get you some water. (She groans louder) What’s the matter?
THE OTHER WOMAN: Give me a three-cent stamp!
JACK: Oh!
WOMAN CUSTOMER: How about my prescription?
JACK: Are you still here? Mary, help me out — take care of that woman, will you?
MARY: Let me see that prescription, Toots . . . two grains of pyramidon . . . one gram of Schenectady . . . one ticket to Syracuse. . . (The door opens again)
JACK: What can I do for you?
PHIL: Say, have you got any aspirin?
JACK: Yes.
PHIL: Well, why don’t you take some, you look terrible.
(The door slams behind him)
JACK: Hm, now I know what’s the matter with this place. I’m sick.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: Will you please hurry up with that prescription? My husband is very low.
JACK: Yes, ma’am, just a minute.
(That door opens again.)
DON: Good evening, good evening.
JACK: How do you do, sir. Anything for you?
DON: I’d like to get some Jell-O. You serve it here, don’t you?
JACK: Yes, you little mind reader.
DON: Is it genuine Jell-O with the big red letters on the box?
JACK: It is, if we expect to be back on the air next Sunday.
DON: Then I’ll have some.
JACK: There you are sir . . . Well, guess it’s time I was locking up. Come on, Mary.
WOMAN CUSTOMER: How about my prescription. I’ve been waiting all day long and my husband is very low.
JACK: Lock her up, Mary, we’ll take care of her tomorrow . . . Play, Phil!
(Phil Harris strikes up with “Strangers In the Dark.”)
JACK: That was the last number of this special vacation broadcast, coming to you through the courtesy of Radio Mirror. Well, Mr. Gensler, now do you still say I can’t act?
DIRECTOR: It was wonderful. Jack! Stupendous!
JACK: So I don’t have to play the butler’s part?
DIRECTOR: I should say not! You don’t have to play any part. You’re fired!
JACK: Oh! Good night, folks.
Jack Benny and his gang return to the air over the NBC-RED Network on Sunday, October 3, at 7:00 P. M. Eastern Standard Time, with a repeat West Coast broadcast at 8:30 P. M. Pacific Standard Time.
Saturday, 14 March 2015
San Antonio, Cartoon Capital
Page developed, or maybe financed, a kind of stop-motion technique involving drawn figures. It’s described in this story in the San Antonio Light of November 5, 1915.
ANIMATED CARTOONS FOR MOTION PICTURES
Harvey L. Page Devises New Method—Make Test at the Grand.
Harvey L. Page, architect of San Antonio, has perfected a method of producing animated cartoons in motion pictures and has completed his first experiment in the new field. The animated cartoon production is entitled "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt" and he calls it a "Clipinsnip" photoplay. For the benefit of a number of his friends, the animated cartoon will be shown at the Grand Opera House at 10 o'clock Sunday morning. Mr. Page has sent out invitations to friends to view the picture and criticise it.
All of the "characters" in "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt," including manikins, horses, a pack of hounds and a number of wierd phantoms the hero of the photoplay sees in an inebriated dream, were constructed by Mr. Page from cardboard. Pinions at all joints allow them to make any sort of motion and he has been able to perfect the various figures so that varying facial expressions can be obtained.
This is Mr. Page's first experience in animated cartoons and the idea of making the production by the method he has perfected is entirely original with him. After his first effort is shown to his friends Sunday morning at the Grand Opera House, he will send it away to a motion picture agency with which he has been in correspondence.
The new animated cartoon field in motion picture production has received considerable attention from moving picture corporations in the last several months. If Mr. Page is successful in his new venture, he plans to develop the production of animated cartoons in San Antonio.
He expects to write the scenarios himself, as he did in "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt." Photographing of the animated cartoon was done in Mr. Page's studio on East Houston street.
Harvey L. Page Devises New Method—Make Test at the Grand.
Harvey L. Page, architect of San Antonio, has perfected a method of producing animated cartoons in motion pictures and has completed his first experiment in the new field. The animated cartoon production is entitled "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt" and he calls it a "Clipinsnip" photoplay. For the benefit of a number of his friends, the animated cartoon will be shown at the Grand Opera House at 10 o'clock Sunday morning. Mr. Page has sent out invitations to friends to view the picture and criticise it.
All of the "characters" in "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt," including manikins, horses, a pack of hounds and a number of wierd phantoms the hero of the photoplay sees in an inebriated dream, were constructed by Mr. Page from cardboard. Pinions at all joints allow them to make any sort of motion and he has been able to perfect the various figures so that varying facial expressions can be obtained.
This is Mr. Page's first experience in animated cartoons and the idea of making the production by the method he has perfected is entirely original with him. After his first effort is shown to his friends Sunday morning at the Grand Opera House, he will send it away to a motion picture agency with which he has been in correspondence.
The new animated cartoon field in motion picture production has received considerable attention from moving picture corporations in the last several months. If Mr. Page is successful in his new venture, he plans to develop the production of animated cartoons in San Antonio.
He expects to write the scenarios himself, as he did in "High Old Times at Chevy Chase Hunt." Photographing of the animated cartoon was done in Mr. Page's studio on East Houston street.
Page held three patents but none involve the process described above.
It’s no coincidence that Page’s cartoon involves Chevy Chase. The Chevy Case Club, founded in 1892, was organised at a meeting in his office in Washington, D.C.
What happened to the cartoon? I haven’t been able to find out. It remains an interesting footnote in early animation.
This appears to have been Page’s only foray into animation. In 1908, he wrote History of the World in Nursery Rhyme, which the Light described (Sept. 2, 1908) as the first of three volumes (“with handsome mezzographs”), the first dealing with events from Adam to Jesus. You can read a short biography of Page here.
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